Hamptons
by firstadream
Summary: It's Memorial Day, so he goes to the Hamptons. And she goes with him.


_Another random one shot chronicling the sexiness of Castle and Beckett. Enjoy._

—

It's Memorial Day, so he goes to the Hamptons.

And she goes with him.

He can't get over the fact that she's finally there, with him. She's impressed by his sprawling house, but she loves the beach the most, loves sitting out on a chair facing the waves, face tipped back to see the sun. Just lying there. In her bikini. Her _skimpy _bikini that reveals more than it covers.

He can't believe how hot she is.

He sits beside her most days, trying not to stare openly. It doesn't seem to bother her. She mostly ignores him and his thinly veiled attempts to get her to have sex with him on the beach.

"It's a private beach," he says one day after she asked him to apply sunscreen to her back. She unties the strings of her top so they don't get in the way and he's determined to make sure they aren't re-tied.

"Semi-private, Castle," she says, reaching back to swat away his hand that has suddenly slid so low that his fingers dip under the waistband of her bikini bottoms.

"There's no one here," he says, trying to sound enticing. Irresistible. Like she is.

"There's a guy walking his dog right there," she points out. "And a couple sitting near the water over there."

He squints towards where she's pointing. "Oh," he mutters lamely. Apparently he was too focused on her state of undress and those untied bikini strings to do a more thorough survey of their surroundings.

"For a writer, your powers of observation seem to be sorely lacking lately," she tells him, pulling away and re-tying the strings in a firm knot. _Damn._

He leans towards her anyway as she lies back down on her chair, facedown. "I've been doing plenty of observing, believe me," he murmurs lowly, trailing his fingers down the center of her back, feeling the bumps of her spine and the skin still slick from the lotion.

She shivers involuntarily at his touch. "What's the big deal with this bikini?" she asks, going for flippant but sounding more breathless than anything. "It's not like you don't know what's underneath it."

"Not really sure," he says thoughtfully, still tracing distracting patterns across her skin. "I guess it's like unwrapping a present. Even if you know what's inside, it's still fun."

She pushes up on her arm and lifts an incredulous glare to his face. "Did you seriously just compare me to a gift-wrapped box?"

"Um, yes." She narrows her eyes at him. Oh, that's definitely a look. He jumps to recover. "I mean, no. I mean…you're like a gift to me. A gift that keeps on giving."

She huffs out a laugh, her face relaxing so quickly he knows she was just messing with him. "That was pathetic."

"Enough to get me off the hook for my poorly worded simile?"

She nods. "But we're still not having sex on the beach."

"Alright," he sighs, trying to seem extra pathetic so she'll take pity on him later that night. Maybe in the bathtub, with that body oil he picked up that smells like a meadow of flowers…

She laughs at him, her eyes bright and dancing. So beautiful. "Come here, Castle."

He leans down and kisses her, short and quick, but before he can pull away she hooks a hand around his neck and tugs him back down. Parts his mouth with her tongue. Nips softly at his bottom lip. "There," she says, pushing him away with a gentle shove to his chest.

He tips back precariously, feeling a little off balance. "Wow," he breathes.

She throws him a wink (so _hot_) then closes her eyes and flops her head back down on her folded arms. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

—

They go back to the beach that evening, just as the sun is dipping below the horizon. She surprises him by walking straight into the water, diving smoothly beneath a wave and resurfacing a moment later.

He follows after her, a little stunned, wincing as the seemingly ice-cold water laps at his ankles. She must be freezing, but she doesn't show it, just leaps beneath another wave just as it breaks over her head. She stays under longer this time and he finds himself scanning the rolling blue water, just starting to worry, when she emerges, finding her footing on the smooth, sandy bottom.

He stops in the water, his breath catching at the vivid picture she makes, silhouetted against the falling sun. She's standing upright, the water reaching just past her waist. Her hair is wet and loose, falling down the middle of her back. With the sun behind her, her skin looks golden, the water droplets that cling to her skin like glitter. Or diamonds.

She's a goddess. A water nymph. Her beauty practically otherworldly.

She turns back to look at him in the same moment a wave crashes into him, knocking him off his feet. He comes up spluttering a moment later and finds her laughing at him, her grin broad and mischievous. An invitation if he ever saw one.

He makes a dive for her, catching her around the waist, and pulls her close. She's still laughing, breathless with it, her whole body shaking in his arms.

"Cruel woman," he says, pressing a kiss to her smiling mouth.

She huffs against his lips, darts her tongue out to trace his lower lip, a conciliatory gesture of sorts. "Sorry," she mutters, kissing him deeper, arching into his body automatically and then she's not laughing, not even close, as he hooks a hand around her knee and hitches her up his body.

She wraps her legs around his waist, letting out a choked gasp as her hips sink down into his. He groans his approval and turns, aiming for the open sea.

He stops when the water reaches the middle of his stomach. Her legs are still hooked around his middle and with every rising wave, she's buoyed up in his arms, only to sink back down as the water recedes, her pelvis bumping into his. The movement is so reminiscent of what both of them want so badly to do that she finds her control slipping. It feels _so good _and it's almost dark out and no one would even _see _anything and—

She gasps out loud when he works a hand underneath her skimpy bikini top, cupping her cool flesh in his palm. "_Castle_," she breathes raggedly, dropping her lips to his neck, sucking the salt on his skin.

"We doing this?" he asks and before her brain can catch up enough to respond, her body answers for her, hips jerking sharply against his.

She pulls back, her feet dropping to the ocean floor long enough for her to slide her bottoms down and off her legs. He quickly trips out of his swim trunks and drags her close again, lifting her effortlessly with the help of a cresting wave.

She squirms against him a little, finding just enough purchase to lift up, and then she's sinking down on him and he's filling her, the heat of him inside her and against her a sharp contrast to the cold ocean, the water droplets drying on her chilled skin.

She lets out a low, shuddering moan as he grips her bottom and rocks into her, his mouth connecting with hers in quick, sloppy kisses. She feels boneless, weightless, floating and shifting in the water as their bodies are tugged by the gentle tides.

He finds her eyes in the rapidly dimming light, watches her lips part as he catches that one spot he knows drives her to oblivion. Her breath catches in her throat, her eyes widening slightly then falling shut as he rocks against her and she moves with him, pressing her face into his neck, helpless whimpers tripping off her tongue.

He bows his head, catches her nipple in his mouth (when did he even undo the strings of her suit?) and that's all it takes and then her back is bowing, her body shuddering, her sob of release caught and swept away in the salty wind.

He follows soon after, clutching her to him. He finds her lips, his eyes wide open in the near-darkness, watching as the sun's rays are replaced by the pale, milky light of the moon. She smiles at him, the curve her lips gentle and loving, and she's sliding down his body, toes digging into the smooth sand at her feet.

He kisses her again—her lips, her cheek, the tip of her nose—and tucks her against his chest, partly to shield her from the brisk wind and partly because he just likes having her near, feeling her skin against his, the rapid thud of her heart.

"You're swimsuit is floating away," she says, a soft laugh in her voice.

He lifts his head and sees the shorts bobbing on a nearby wave. He moves towards them, dragging her along with an arm around her waist. An unexpected drop off of the sea floor makes her lose her footing, her feet rising from the sand as she automatically begins to tread water.

He grabs his suit and steps into it, adjusting them on his hips, before tying off the string. He can still touch so he steps over to her and picks her up, pulling her flush against his chest. "Where's your suit?" he asks, trying not to let a heartfelt groan, because she's still naked and pressed against him and he will never stop wanting her.

She shrugs, grinning. "Don't know."

His eyes widen. "What? Are you serious?" He glances around them at the dark waves, almost black in the moonlight. He knows they'll never be able to spot the navy blue material of her bikini. It might've already sunk anyway, or floated out of reach.

She laughs again, open and joyful. Carefree. "It's fine, Castle."

"What if someone sees?" he asks.

She gives him a look. "This coming from the man who wanted to have sex on a public beach in broad daylight."

"Semi-public," he specifies, then grins, lowering his mouth to hers in a sweet, slow kiss that kind of takes her breath away, has her pressing impossibly closer, melding her slim body into the broad expanse of his chest. "I just want you all to myself," he confesses.

She smiles. She likes that. "No one's here."

He nods. "Good point," he says and begins to move them towards the shore, carrying her even after the seabed rises enough so she could walk herself. She doesn't mind. Lets him hold her.

He drops her to her feet when they emerge from the waves. The beach is deserted, no one in sight, so she simply walks beside him, reveling shamelessly in the freedom, the thrill of being _naked _on a public beach. Well, kind of public.

It doesn't bother her. For all his hemming and hawing and teasing about how she's a prude for not having sex with him right there on her beach chair, he's the one who seems a little nervous about the whole situation, seemingly torn between staring at her openly and shielding her with his body.

She just smiles at him, enjoying the way he squirms, enjoying it, that is, until she hears a rustle of bushes and a voice calling out to them.

"Richard, is that you?"

Oh god. His _mother._ She's going to die. Why did she _ever _let him talk her into having sex in the ocean?

She leaps behind him, pressing herself against his back, hiding as well as she can.

"Hello, mother," he says, trying to play it cool but totally failing.

Martha walks up to him and stops, peering at him in the darkness. "Were you swimming?"

"Um, yes," he says. "Midnight swim."

"Isn't the water freezing?"

"It was…fine," he hedges, feeling Kate shift behind him, one big tensed muscle.

Martha leans closer, peering at him curiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, of course, yeah," he says quickly, sounding absolutely idiotic. Kate pinches his side and he presses his lips together to keep in the yelp. "I should get inside. Don't want to get cold."

But he doesn't move. Martha frowns. "Are you going?"

"Yup." He takes an awkward step forward and Kate shuffles with him, nearly tripping. He stops. "Um, actually, I'm gonna stay here."

"Richard, you're acting like a lunatic. What's going on?"

Behind him, Kate sighs. She straightens slightly and sucks in a deep breath, working up her nerve, resigning herself to the embarrassment.

She pokes her head out from behind Castle's shoulder. "Hi, Martha," she breathes, glad for the darkness so his mother can't see the way her cheeks flame red.

"Kate!" Martha exclaims. "What are you doing?"

"Hiding," she says honestly. So _humiliating_. "I kind of…" Oh god. "I kind of…lost my bathing suit."

"Lost it, dear?"

"Misplaced it," Castle jumps in, completely _not _helpful.

Martha smirks, her eyes dancing with amusement and _way _too much understanding. "I see," she says.

Castle feels like a teenager as his mother eyes the both of them, so obviously enjoying the situation. She takes pity on Kate after a moment and unwraps the shawl draped around her neck, handing it to Castle who passes it back to Kate. It's just large enough to cover her, though her legs remain mostly bare.

"Thank you," she says to Martha, pulling the thin fabric tight around her body, wishing she could disappear into it. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," the older woman says, dismissing the gesture with a flick of her wrist. "Happens to me all the time."

Castle watches in stunned silence as his mother turn and strides away. Once she's out of sight, he whirls to face Kate. "Happens _all the time_? How many times has my mother been caught naked on a beach?"

Kate shrugs, relaxing now that it's just the two of them again. "A few?"

"She's unbelievable. _All the time_. Jesus. I'm scarred for life."

She rolls her eyes at him, stepping forward, the shawl still wrapped firmly around her body. "Stop being so dramatic, Castle."

"I can't stop. I'm overcome."

Now she knows he's milking it. She turns to face him, holding his eye as she loosens her grip on the shawl and lets it flutter to the ground. His mouth parts soundlessly as his eyes rake over all the perfect, flawless skin. "I—"

She moves around him, leaving him frozen in the sand behind. "I think I'm going to go swimming again."

"I, um, I—"

He can't form words. There are no words. She's breathtaking and sexy and wonderful and—

"You coming, Castle?"

Her question knocks him out of his haze and he lurches towards her, practically tripping over himself to catch up. "Yeah," he says, grabbing the hand stretched towards him.

He tugs her closer, close enough to kiss. "God, I love you," he sighs.

She smiles. "Love you, too."

—

_Hope you liked it! Reviews always appreciated!_


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